


How Many Failures Does It Take To Change A Lightbulb

by calliopesbox



Category: Camp Camp (Web Series)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, David Acting as Max's Parental Figure | Dadvid (Camp Camp), Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Suicidal Thoughts, but these are never acted upon, david becomes a father figure for max, max can’t fix his stupid kitchen lights, max is 22 but sucks so hard at having responsibilities, s/lf h/rm is not included don’t worry guys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:34:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25929712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calliopesbox/pseuds/calliopesbox
Summary: Max is a college dropout, hopeless jerk, and general failure. David is still a chipper, optimistic camp counselor with lots of time and energy to spare. After one particularly rough night, Max decides to reach back out to one of the only people he can remember that really believed in him; and their paths cross permanently, breaking a decade of silence.
Comments: 15
Kudos: 73





	How Many Failures Does It Take To Change A Lightbulb

The lights in Max’s apartment had always flickered. 

He changed them every month or so, whenever he annoyed himself by grumbling too often about how they were never bright enough; and, every time he changed them, he was somehow left with an even more dim and dreary space than he started with.

He never thought to check the wattage. He just knew that, somehow, his lightbulbs kept dimming and flickering, and he gradually stopped reminding himself to change them out. Out of frustration, or exhaustion, he couldn’t tell you. All he knew is that he was just as burnt out as the small shitty bulbs nested in the kitchen light.

His kitchen was more than minimalist. It had nothing in it but the bare essentials. No plants or pots or picture frames graced this house at all, as he had no time to water or admire them. He sat now at the table, his elbows steadying the rocking of the unsteady furniture. His head lay in his hands, rubbing at his temples as he tried to form a single word on the page in front of him. He had so much to say, and so little time.

College was a fucking bummer. He had no energy for anything, let alone work, and hadn’t since the minute he left his parents’ house. He always had dreamed about getting out of there, though none of those methods had ever been growing. He had considered so many alternatives that simply packing his bags when it was time and renting an apartment wasn’t one of them.

After taking the big leap into the real world, he found himself stumbling and falling flat more times than life felt like forgiving him for. He had been a lot of rebounds, second choices, and a lot of people’s punching bags, and was much too prideful to admit it. Now that he was free from his parents, the mask that he held so closely to defend himself was becoming a burden.

What had changed? 

Max found himself at the foot of his own bed. His clothes were strewn about the lazily sheeted mattress. He hadn’t bothered to find or assemble a fitting frame. In a single, simple wooden nightstand with a small beige lamp perched in the middle, lie a stack of photos in a drawer.

He found his fingers sifting through the pile. Pictures from graduation, of family he’d lost touch with, with old friends. They kept returning to one, curiously, and he set it on his nightstand to inspect it further.

A photo of himself, a child. Ten or eleven, he guessed. The rest of his friends surrounded him with grinning, bright faces, and his camp counselors right behind him. It was the summer before his first year at junior high, he guessed. David had a gentle hand placed directly on his shoulder, eyes just as frustratingly enthusiastic as ever. 

Max was the outlier. His arms were shoved deep in his pocket, brows scrunched and a permanent scowl carved into his youthful cheeks. He sat on the bed, slowly, the springs creaking horribly below him, and closed his eyes.

Gwen had told him once, out of frustration, that he would never grow to be anything other than bitter and unhappy. He wasn’t sure why his mind jumped to her. He could laugh at it now, if he wanted. He hadn’t been to camp again since he was 13, and it had been so long since her words had meant anything to him. But honestly? She was right. And, to Max’s dismay, always had been. 

His shaking fingers reached back to the pile, and he gingerly ran them over the edges. He had never really looked over these. He had stuffed them in a drawer the minute he got home from camp, stared at the top photo once in a while. But something told him to bring these.

And, as he shuffled each of the photos behind one another, a letter dropped from the pile. A real, honest to god written letter that he had never read before. His interest was sufficiently piqued, and his heart dropped when he read the first few words. He recognized that handwriting.

‘Max!

Don’t forget about us!!! I know you won’t, I’m just teasing you. I know we’ve had our rough patches, but you’re really going places! I can feel it! Just apply yourself. You can do anything!

Remember to give us a call if you ever feel like joining the cause!!! Our office is always open! Seriously, we never leave this place!’

A number was written neatly at the bottom, with the note, ‘Oh, and I’m so proud of you!’.

He was proud of him.

Before Max knew it, he was crying. It had been a good couple of months since he had been able to cry. It was a few fateful tears that dripped first, and then a few more, and suddenly his eyes could no longer focus on the paper in front of him. He realizes, then, exactly why that moment had been at the forefront of his mind.

He was trying to remember the last time he had ever truly been happy. He decided emotions fucking sucked.

The time blurs for him as he furiously wipes his eyes with his jacket sleeve and reaches for his phone. Max curls one knee to his chest, the other hanging off of the bed. He punches in the number like his life depends on it. Maybe it does.

The first time the phone rings, it asks him to leave a message. Of course it does. It’s past midnight. But an ominous cloud of doubt creeps over him, wondering if maybe they had somehow changed numbers since he’d left. On the second ring, though, a familiar voice picks up and yawns into the receiver, quickly composing himself.

“You’ll have to excuse me for the delay! I’m Camp Campbell counselor David, what can I help you with?”

His voice is clearly sleepy, but still unmistakably upbeat, even at this hour. Max resented his unwavering enthusiasm. But, still, he decides not to hang up just yet.

“David,” he chokes unexpectedly, stubborn and pesteringly hot tears falling from his chin. He steadies his voice, annoyed with the vulnerability he issued. “Hi, David.”

A nervous laugh across the line, and then a clearing of his throat. “Hello! Do I know you?”

“It’s Max.”

After over a decade, David’s heart stops. A brief silence on the other end as the memories click into place in his head. He goes through so many stages of grief and joy and doubt, all at once. 

“Max,” David says. Tentatively, but you can tell he’s elated to hear from him. “It’s been a long time, huh? You’re in college now, aren’t you? Oh, we haven’t spoken in so long! I was starting to become worried you wouldn’t call!”

“Yeah, sorry about that.” He doesn’t want to admit the circumstances just yet, so he brushes it off. “Got busy. You know how it is.”

“Of course! Gwen’s been asking about you for an awfully long time. She’s going to be so thrilled when she hears you called!” He says this almost in a whisper. It’s the kind you hear when it’s a sleepover, and you don’t want your parents to catch you awake, but you can’t help but be thrilled at the fact that you have someone to talk to. 

“She’s asleep right now, thank goodness. I really shouldn’t wake her. It was a long day with the kids today, and she hasn’t slept a wink, the poor soul.” He struggles to address the elephant in the room, and simply asks,

“It’s awfully late, and you sound upset. Are you okay?” 

“Even in your old age, I see you’ve changed none.” His tone is bitterly sarcastic, almost offended that he would ask such a question. David suppresses a weary exhale. He seems to have changed so little.

“No, I’m not okay. Would I really be calling you of all people at two in the fucking morning if I was?”

His words hold no real fire, and even if it did, it’s extinguished by the post-sob crackling his voice has attained. He knows this, and exhales through his nose, mumbling a half-apology. 

“I didn’t mean that. You know what I mean.” Instead of sitting hunched over the side, he sprawls himself out on the mattress, his phone resting on his chest. His right arm hangs over the side limp, and his eyes shut again.

“I know,” David replies. Max is relieved to recognize this as genuine understanding. David was naturally a person prone to forgiveness, but it didn’t make him feel any less shitty for saying that to the guy who was listening to him sniffle over the phone. 

“Tell me about what you’ve been up to, Max. I’m more than happy to listen!”

Max pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to remember a single meaningful thing he had actually done in the past year or so.

“Nothing,” he concludes. “I’ve been up to nothing.” 

“Well, surely not nothing! How’s college going for you? Any fun coworkers you’ve made friends with?”

“Dropped out a month ago. I’m working at a gas station across the street. The pay’s shit, but it’s enough to afford this equally shit apartment, so I guess it breaks even.”

He hadn’t yet admitted that he’d dropped out aloud to anyone. Guess David wasn’t a bad choice to be the first. He wouldn’t judge him too harshly, he was sure. Max’s first instinct was to remind himself he didn’t care what David thought, and yet somewhere in the recesses of his head and heart, he did.

“Well, it sounds to me like you’re making great progress! You’ve ought to have worked hard for a roof over your head! You know, when I was your age, I had no idea what I was getting into! Can you believe it? Clown school? Thank goodness I ended up where I am now!” He laughs at his own expense, praying his humor shone through to him even a little. 

“I guess.” 

“It’s good to remember that not every adult has the same journey! We all have our ups and down, but you know, when I-“

“David.”

“Yes, Max?”

“This isn’t just ‘another down’.” He squeezes his eyes shut tight, mocking the quotations in the air with his hands. “I wouldn’t be reaching out to my childhood camp counselor if it was just my fucked seasonal depression kicking in.”

David is quiet, wondering what to say next. His tone softens significantly.

“Max, you know I’m always willing to talk you through these types of things. I only ask you be patient with me. But this sounds more urgent than an issue we should be talking about over the phone. Are you… anywhere nearby?”

Max sits himself upright, his hand slipping up to catch his phone. He stares quizzically at the screen.

“You’re trying to come over? It’s the middle of the night.”

“If you’ll allow me! I always have time for my favorite camper, especially when he needs help.”

“I don’t need help,” he retorts, sounding near offended. “I just need…”

What does he need, again? Why did he call in the first place? Out of desperation, desire to visit an old friend? Was he even a friend? 

“Someone who will listen to me.”

“Max,” he decides aloud, “I am more than happy to be that someone. You live near the community college downtown, don’t you?”

“I do,” he admits. “A couple blocks down. You’re not actually considering-”

“Send me your address, and I’ll be over as soon as I can! I’m already out the door. I’ll bring a surprise!”

“Sure.” Max was not sure. But David hung up immediately after he sent him his address, and now it was a waiting game. That was alright. He had time, then, to wonder what David would be like now.

He surely acted the same. But it didn’t occur to Max that David had aged along with him. He was what now, in his mid thirties? Jesus. Max was now nearly the same age as David was when he met him, and he didn’t feel even half as prepared.

Looking back on him, David clearly didn’t have it together. He cried every time something inconvenienced him in the slightest, and whined when something didn’t go his way. He was naïve. Easily and often manipulated. But he had a clear goal, a passion that he knew he would be happy continuing to pursue for the rest of his life. And Max didn’t.

Max spent most of his half hour in his room, staring at the ceiling in wait. Once, he dragged himself up to change clothes, throwing on a different, less ratty pair of jeans and a jacket whose sleeves hadn’t been subject to his onslaught of tears. When there’s a knock at the door, he almost forgets that David had been coming, his mind so caught in an endless loop of ‘what if’s that it’d nearly slipped his mind entirely.

He clears his throat and calls a weary ‘come in!’ before he remembers it’s locked. Oh. Right. The one night he actually needed to lock it.

Max curses to himself as he stumbles out of bed and to the door, looking just as disheveled as before even with the change of clothing. The door swings open and he plays an act of nonchalance. It is a mere second before he drops it entirely.

David was shorter. Or, rather, Max had grown a considerable height. He’d remembered him from so long ago that he foolishly assumed David to be at least 6 and a half feet tall, though now it is clear that he was just a very small child last he’d seen him. He looked like… a regular person. It was odd.

Young, impressionable, bright-eyed David and the one standing before him were so similar it was difficult to differentiate between the two, at least in terms of personality. But his shoulders were a bit broader, maybe a little more sure of himself. He still had that barely noticeable jaw stubble, which Max had forgotten. But his eyes were still as ridiculously large with eagerness. 

“Oh, Max, it is so good to see you!” David sets down the plastic bags in his hands in a hurry, ushering them both inside and shutting the door before engulfing him in a bear hug. He squeezes him tightly, his aroma a familiar mix of fresh laundry and pine. The scent evokes nostalgia in Max, images of the counselor’s cabin flashing before his eyes. It is by no means unwelcome, but the hug still catches him off guard.

At first, Max is unsure of how to reciprocate. He hasn’t had a hug in months. Years, maybe? It wasn’t a fact he really bothered to ponder very often, but the reality was forced upon him now. He carefully wraps his arms back around him, leaning his head briefly against his shoulder. It was awkward, but genuine.

“David,” he protests, the taller man holding him even tighter. “David, you’re fucking crushing me.”

“Sorry! Sorry. I’m just… I’m just so happy to see you again!” He still hadn’t let go of Max, just loosened his grip around him. “You’ve gotten so tall!”

He holds Max out in front of him, hands on his shoulders. “And your cheeks! They’re still so round!” He reaches a hand up to pinch one before Max pushes it away.

“Hey, my house, my rules. Rule number one is you don’t touch me without permission. Rule number two is you tell me what’s in those bags.”

Max’s head is craned over David’s shoulder to peer at the thick plastic, as if staring at it hard enough would make him understand it’s contents. He breathes a quick sigh of relief when he takes his hands off of his shoulders to rush over and grab them.

“Oh, of course! Well, first, I brought you somebody pretty special-“

He reaches into his bag and motions for Max to close his eyes. He furrows his brow in protest before deciding to humor David, just this once, and reluctantly shuts them. When he reopens them again, he is faced with another nostalgic presence - his first and only stuffed bear.

“What did you call him when you were younger?” David asks, handing the bear to Max. “Mr. Honey-something-or-other… Mr.-“

“Honeynuts,” Max corrects under his breath, sitting himself down on the couch and stroking it’s short fur gingerly with his thumb. “This can’t be real. I thought I’d lost him for good.”

“Oh, it’s very real! I had to keep him tucked away for quite a while! A few badgers had nearly gotten to him, but I made sure they didn’t stick around!” David takes this opportunity to sit beside Max, beaming widely. “Isn’t he in great shape?”

Actually, he isn’t. He looks like if you bought a new teddy bear and ran over it with a muddy 16-wheeler. But as David recounts the tale behind his heroic rescue of Mr. Honeynuts from the many rodents that had invaded the storage closet at one point or another, Max couldn’t care less about it’s state. This bear was one of the last physical remnants of his childhood, perfectly preserved, almost locked in time.

He hugs it with a deep, contented sigh. “Can’t say I didn’t miss him. I don’t have a lot of shit like this left.”

“I’m glad he’s back to his rightful owner.” David leans forward, hands clasped and elbows resting on his knees. “Here, I’ll grab the other bag while you two catch up.” 

He hops up from his seat momentarily, lifting the other bag and making a beeline to the kitchen table. He sets it down carefully, Max still looking away in awe, and removes the contents.

As David sets down each snack, arranged in neat piles, his eyes drift to a note on the edge.

It’s scribbly. Incomprehensible to the untrained eye, maybe, but David recognizes this undoubtedly as Max’s handwriting. It doesn’t look like he’s improved since middle school. 

David is more than used to deciphering messy writing, mostly from children. It’s his job. But there’s something more upsetting about the writing than just it’s neatness. It seems fraught, scrambled thoughts placed together on the page out of something he recognizes as desperation.

He sneaks a glance at Max to make sure he’s not looking, but the other man seems much too lost in thought to have noticed his brief distraction. He takes this opportunity to read the note.

This is bad. Very, very bad. The words on the page make him want to run over and scoop Max up right then and there, console him with a thousand promises he knew he couldn’t keep. His miserable, last-gasp efforts to tell the world everything he wished he could have done in time make his body heavy and numb with grief. 

He now knew this meeting was more than a reunion. This was David’s second chance to convince Max there was more to life than he had yet witnessed, though this time, if he failed, the consequences would be much more damning.

David sets the note down and rummages through the bag again. He pretends he had never seen the note in the first place, and to his relief, Max doesn’t call his bluff. He roams back to the couch, taking note of the bare exterior, and resumes his conversation with Max.

“Well!” He smiles, clasping his hands together as he settles. “Boy, has it been a while since we’ve talked!”

Max shrugs. He slouches forward, hoodie strings dangling in front of him. He brings a thumb to his lips, chewing the nail. It takes all the strength in David not to tell him to keep his hands out of his mouth. He senses now is not the time for a lecture.

“Well, you know, now is as good of a time as ever! Got any questions for me?”

Max furrows his brow. “Uh… I guess I’ve wondered what you do outside of summer. I mean, you don’t get paid much of anything, right? How do you even pay the bills?”

“Oh! I am a proud freelance photographer!” Max snorts at this, and David scoffs.

“What! It’s a real profession! And I book gigs on the weekends to perform at coffee shops if I’m lucky! They love hearing my honed guitar skills and my original songs,” he insists.

“I’m sure they do, David.” After thinking for a few more moments, he gives up. “Well, I’m all out of questions. You got any?”

“I do! But mine might be a little more personal. Is that okay?”

Max shrugs his shoulders again. “Hit me with it.”

“I always wondered,” he cautiously begins, “what it was like for you at home. I tried to call your mother once to see how you were doing, but she brushed me off and told me not to call.”

“My mom was a piece of shit who acknowledged my existence when it was convenient for her. Simple as that.”

“And your father?” He prods softly. “What’s he like?”

“He’s been gone for way too long for me to remember what he’s like. So, dead to me.”

“I see.” David chews at his lip, finding the right words to motivate him. To encourage him to reach out to his family, if that was safe or necessary. To uplift his spirits.

“Max, I don’t know about you, but my parents haven’t spoken to me since I left for college.”

Well. Not exactly what he was going for, but he decides to double down on this train of thought.

“Not a call, a text, an e-mail.” He laughs to himself, “Not even a letter. They could track me down if they wanted to. I leave behind quite an obvious trail! But they don’t, and it’s taken me many years to accept that they might not want to.”

“Maybe your mother regrets the way she acted. But you aren’t required, by any means, to forgive how your parents have treated you.”

Max, for the first time since they’ve been talking, looks over to David. Something in his tight chest tugs, watching as his expression takes on a half-hearted smile over the thick layers of stress, accumulated over countless years of giving himself to others. A long overdue realization clicks in his head.

“You didn’t have a dad, did you, David?”

“I did,” he admits. “But he’s not much of a father if he disowns you, is he?”

Max swallows. “Why’d he…?”

“It’s... hard to explain.”

David’s dismissal means everything to him. He never turned away an honest question. Max rubs at the back of his neck.

“Man, I’m sorry. I had no clue.”

“Don’t be! I only say that to let you know I can… understand how you feel. To have him absent.”

He turns to face Max fully. 

“It breaks my heart to see you like this.” He concedes this quietly. “I had never imagined we would meet again like this. If you allow me to listen, you can tell me what’s really been happening all these years.”

He is prone to refuse. His prime defense mechanism is laughing in the face of support, insisting that he doesn’t need anything that others can offer him. He’s just fine on his own. He’d rather die than divulge to anyone his deepest, most well-hidden secrets, woes, or worries.

But he does something which surprises even himself. He tells the story, unsteady but earnest, of why he had never reached out.

—

Once, there was a child, and he lived in a small house on a small road in a small town. And the house was short and boxy, with many unattractive and awkward angles and issues, that jutted from every side like a lopsided beige brick urchin. The paint was peeling, and the floors had splinters, and he tiptoed on eggshells everywhere he wandered. He was scared, every moment, of cracking the fragile foundation on which his family stood.

And that child went to school in a very loud classroom, in a very dreary sector of town, where nothing of any inherent interest seemed to happen at all. His desk brought him some of the most entertainment, because he could slip many loose-leaf notes and little stolen items and trinkets to find for later. And he would cause mischief, and swear so loud the birds above would startle, and shake the earth with his stomping.

And each day seemed to pass him by, as if someone had grabbed a nearby clock and spun each hand as fast as they could, and he could do nothing but watch it twirl like mad about it’s plastic base. 

His dad had been gone for many years, far too long for him to remember his face clearly, and his mother had always sent him off to summer camp since elementary to ‘catch a break’. He was tossed from camp to camp, each of them more unwilling than the last to take him due to his expanding record of bad behavior; and over the years he grew bitter and unhappy and lost.

And, when he was ten, he attended the first camp that wouldn’t reject him. He stayed there every summer, claiming to resent every moment of it, and yet every day he longed for that community he had once felt he ruled. Camp Campbell was so important to him because it was the last time he had control over something in his life.

Every summer after his 7th grade year, he was left alone. His mother had decided he was old enough to stay in the house alone, while she would spend her days in June with wine excursions and cruises; buying luxuries she couldn’t afford and placing them indubitably in debt the next year. And every year, she would do it all again, and at fourteen Max had gotten himself his first job.

He was lonely. Spiteful, and very lonely, and for the first time he seriously considered running away. But not to just anywhere: he considered running away to Camp Campbell.

It had beds, and food, and friends; all things that were never guaranteed at home. Even the roof over his head felt like a cruel joke on him; like the minute he got comfortable, it would be ripped away, and he would be lost to the void of stars and storm cloud and thunder swirling far beyond his reach. 

Now he was back, spilling his life’s tragedies and tribulations to his former camp counselor like a child as he fumbled over words and sobbed into his shoulder. It had started with a gentle trembling of his lip, and then before he knew it he was against his chest, pouring out a string of confessions and apologies. It was fucking pathetic, and he couldn’t bring himself to care.

And David was quiet, only chiming in with an understanding ‘mhm’ or ‘it’s okay’ or ‘I’m listening’ when Max couldn’t move on to the next sentence without getting frustrated or choked by his own liability. But he was feeling just as deeply, and his heart seemed to drop further with every sentence he spoke. 

David hadn’t spoken to this person in years. He was, admittedly, distraught when he lost all contact with the kid he knew had a rough home life. He had given up all hope on ever hearing from him again, after a full decade of dead air. And, suddenly, he was back in his arms, detailing every woe he had been too scared or prideful to admit as a child; and maybe even ones he didn’t know had affected him so deeply until just this moment.

“Max,” he finally interjects. He sounds determined and consoling, all at once. “I’m going to be here for you, no matter what it takes. I know I haven’t been able to look out for you the way I’ve wanted to, but now, I hope I can be someone you can go to for advice.”

He holds Max in front of him with a welcoming smile, faith laid bare and vulnerable. Lovingly, like a father should be to his son; the father that neither of them had. It brought David some solace that he could, maybe, be that person for Max. Even if he was a decade or two late.

Max’s eyes sting with the onslaught of grief and the flood of emotions long repressed. He knows full well how open this makes him, how impossible it is to regain the same level of nonchalant composure he once embodies so well. He could never replace the mask he’d broken today, but interestingly, he had no desire to in the first place.

“David.”

“Yes, Max?”

“Thank you.”

And then it was silent, and David was shaking just enough to be noticeable, and suddenly he was just as teary as Max. Really, it was a wonder he hadn’t started bawling the minute he walked in the door. 

“I was beginning to think you’d never call,” he confessed, blubbering out his words. “I held out on you for so long. I felt like I’d failed you, Max. Like there was something I should’ve done, someone I should’ve told, but I kept holding out, and I just can’t believe that you were right here the whole time, and I don’t… ” Max laughed in a pathetic sob at his lengthy speech, effectively cutting him off.

“Shut up and cry, David.” David sniffed, his eyes wide and shiny with another incoming wave of tears.

“Okay.”

And so they cried. And they held each other, and made simultaneous, silent promises that neither were willing to break.

David promised Max a new beginning; a clean slate on which to build. A friend, a companion who unconditionally cared for him. A sit-in father, who would listen and understand.

Max promised David a second chance.

—

Max found himself wanting David to stay, once they exchanged their goodbyes. He felt so emotionally vulnerable now that being alone for the rest of the night seemed like a drag. But he knew as well as David that they both needed sleep, and that nothing would come of keeping him hostage in his barebones living space.

It’s quiet now, and Max rubs his hands over his eyes. The familiar silence makes him wonder exactly how long it had been since he sat down and talked to someone like that. Many years, he guessed. Maybe never.

He drifts to the kitchen table once again where the snack bags lay. After tearing open a bag of Chex Mix (the contents of which didn’t surprise him, of course David wouldn’t buy him anything with an ounce of sugar), he spots his note at the edge of the table. He sees now that it’s so scrawny and painfully desperate that it’s tough to decipher, even as the writer, but he doesn’t need to. Nobody needs to read that note, anyway.   
He isn’t going anywhere.

He nearly puts pen to paper before the light flickers pathetically, and he frowns. It’s far overdue for a change.

He unsteadily climbs onto the chair after flicking off the switch and peeks over the frosted glass to unscrew the bulb. It’s still warm in his hands, and he uses his phone light to read the tiny printed font.

Huh. The wattage was suspiciously low. Almost as if it didn’t fit the fixture.

He rescrews it, for the time being, and flicks the switch once more. He flips over the crumpled college-rule paper and sat, carefully, on the rickety chair. He picks up the pen once more, weighing his options in his head. He adds his first item to the list.

•Fix the damn kitchen light.

He continues to add items until it feels sufficient. It reads as follows:

•Quit your job  
•Pick up some groceries on the way home  
•Find a better fucking therapist  
•Get a better chair

and, last, but certainly not the least:

•Call David in the morning for an application

Max retires himself to bed, heart full of something he hasn’t felt in a long time. It’s bittersweet, the loss of a plan he had so meticulously crafted, yet the birth of something different he knows will bring him joy. 

He shuts his eyes, drifts to sleep, and dreams of new beginnings.

**Author's Note:**

> My first published fanfic, aw yeah!!! I wrote this in wait for Season 5 (so this information may be totally outdated by then) but I would love to hear what you have to say about it! :D If you have any requests or questions or anything I would be so, so happy to hear them! Thank you!!! <3


End file.
